


Won't Be Me

by MSpataro210



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Police, Attempts to get the other one fired, Dean in Panties, Detective Castiel, Detective Dean Winchester, Domestic, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Office Betting, Pranks, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel have been enjoying each other for awhile, preferring to keep their relationship secret.  However, when Chief Singer decides to instate a new rule after a workplace incident, they've reached a dilemma.  They want to tell everyone, but they don't want to lose their jobs.  So, instead of breaking up, they both have the perfect plan: get the other one fired, so they aren't breaking the rule anymore.<br/>But even plans with the best of intentions have trouble working out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Be Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> Was inspired to write this after looking through a HUGE list of AU's. Like, 1001 of them. This was the one that stuck out the best as a story idea.  
> Enjoy!

            It’s the smell of coffee that finally forces his eyes open. Castiel pushes himself up from the memory foam, grumbling the entire time. He yawns, tasting the staleness that has grafted itself to his tongue. He scratches at his tousled locks, turning over to sit on the edge of the bed. His bare feet ease themselves onto the cold, hardwood floor. He stretches, and then stands to follow the scent.

            He doesn’t have to go far.

            From his position leaning on the doorframe, he watches his boyfriend of six months at the counter. Dean’s plating what looks like an omelet, and he’s already poured the coffee into one of his mugs. He’s whistling a sunny tune and shimmying his hips in time. He picks up the tray and turns around, only to stop when his green eyes lock with Castiel’s blue. His whistling dies down and his smile morphs into a pout.

            “You shouldn’t be up,” Dean huffs.

            “You’re right,” Castiel chuckles, “I shouldn’t.” He strolls forward and takes the tray from Dean’s hands, kissing him on the cheek for good measure.

            “I wanted to surprise you,” Dean says, following Castiel to his sofa.

            Castiel raises a brow, “Breakfast in bed?”

            “Now it’s just regular breakfast,” Dean sighs, “on a sofa.”

            “Still,” Castiel shrugs, “it’s the thought that counts.” He pats at the seat next to him. Dean rolls his eyes. He throws himself next to Castiel, dropping his head onto the older man’s shoulder and plastering himself to his side. Castiel chuckles, and places a kiss in his sandy blond hair.

            They sit like that for a while. Castiel chews silently while Dean just breathes in his boyfriend’s morning scent.

            When Castiel’s finished his last sip of coffee, he rises to the sound of Dean’s protests.

            “Sorry, babe,” he chuckles, kissing him on the head again, “I have to go into work in the next hour.”

            “You have a shift today?” Dean blinks up at him, “I thought we agreed to have a personal day today?”

            “We did,” Castiel nodded, “but your brother didn’t. He asked me to cover his shift today before we left our desks for our… _usual_ activities last night.”

            Dean curses, but follows him back towards the bedroom.

            “Did he tell you _why_ he wanted today off?”

            Castiel smirks as he starts picking clothes off the floor, tossing some for Dean to catch.

            “He wanted to spend some time with you, today,” he says, “something about how you never make time for him anymore? And how you always find reasons to go off alone or sleep over at someone _else’s_ apartment?”

            Dean blushes, pulling his t-shirt over his head to hide it. He’s guilty, and he knows it. Thinking back on how his and Castiel’s relationship went from working to working on it to romantic, he can see why Sam may feel that way.

            “Well, alright,” Dean smiles, tugging his boxers on, “I think I can make the time for that squirt.”

            “Good,” Castiel kisses Dean on the cheek, “maybe if you leave now you can make it back in time for… brunch?”

            “Nah,” Dean shakes his head, grabbing Castiel’s hand, “you ain’t leaving me with that.” He pulls Castiel down and grabs the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. His eyes were closed already, so he doesn’t see Castiel’s flutter close soon after contact. The kiss is slow and heated. After a few moments, Dean pulls himself away.

            “Good luck today,” Dean smiles up at Castiel, “don’t have too much fun without me.”

            “How can I?” Castiel whispers his reply, “You make everything fun.”

            Dean wiggles his eyebrows, “Even _showers_?”

            Castiel smacks his shoulder, exasperated. “I have to get to work,” he admonishes, “and you need to go see Sam.”

            Dean smirks, “He likes lunch better than brunch.”

            Castiel’s about to say something else, but pauses himself in thought. After a while, he rolls his eyes and starts towards the bathroom. Dean slumps in defeat, until Castiel’s voice drifts from the hallway.

            “Well, come on then.”

            Dean’s shirt is back on the floor faster than when he put it on.

* * *

 

            Castiel is only slightly late when he makes it into work. He would have been on time if Dean didn’t offer to drive him to the station. He would have been on time if Dean didn’t offer to blow him in the parking lot.

            Thankfully, it’s only Charlie who catches him sneaking in.

            She sidles up to him as he makes his way over to his desk.

            “So,” she starts, “what are you doing here?”

            “Working,” he says, “Like some people should be doing.”

            “Do you always have to be such a grump this early?” Charlie smirks, “Or are you upset because you’re here without your _better_ half?”

            “Hardy har har, Charlie,” Castiel bristles, “you know as well as anyone else here that Dean and I are partners, nothing more.”

            At least, that’s what they’ve been selling to the department for the past few months. They didn’t want to tell the force just yet, still feeling the relationship out for themselves more than anything.

            Besides, Dean decided their friends deserved to wait after he and Charlie got wasted one night and she told him about the betting pool they all started on when he and Castiel would sleep together. This caused Castiel to snort. It got even better when she also told him about the other pool they started on how it would happen.

            Nearly everyone said Dean would be the bottom.

            Even thinking about it now causes Castiel to laugh. He recollects himself, however, when Charlie shoots him a look.

           “Sorry, sorry,” Castiel coughs, “just remembered a funny video. It had a cat in it.”

           “Nearly all of them do, Cas,” Charlie rolls her eyes.

           He’s about to say more when his catches sight of a strange book on his desk. He picks it up and inspects it.

           “What’s this?” he asks.

           “That, my friend,” Charlie sighs, “is the new rulebook.”

           “New?” Castiel blinks, “What was wrong with the old one?”

           “Chief Singer decided to add in a new rule after we had to let Crazy Becky go,” Charlie explains, plopping herself into Castiel’s seat.

           Castiel rolls his eyes, but leans on his desk instead of forcing her up. He thinks back, trying to remember whom Charlie was talking about. His eyes light up when a hazy face sneaks its way into his thoughts.

           “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Ms. Rosen from the front desk?” Castiel asks her.

           “I would,” Charlie nods.

           “Huh,” he hums, “I was wondering why she wasn’t stationed at the front desk for the past few weeks. She always brought in the most amazing donuts.”

           “And had the best office gossip,” Charlie tacked on, “but who knew under all of that she was a tightly wound crazy coil waiting to be sprung?”           

          “What are you talking about?”

          “She had to be carried out in a straight jacket,” Charlie tells him, “that is, after yelling at Chuck she went into a rampage, threatened his life, and demolished our lab upstairs!”

          “Is that why we’ve been sending our evidence samples over to the station on 31st street?” Castiel interrupts, “I just assumed Gabriel set some more equipment on fire.”

          “He wishes he could have done that much damage,” Charlie shakes her head, “but, no, it was Becky.” She chuckles, “Who would’ve guessed a break up could do _that_ to a person.”

          Castiel’s body freezes. He turns to Charlie, “Come again?”

          “You didn’t know?” Charlie raises her brows. “Of course you didn’t know,” she scoffs, “you didn’t know she was fired, makes sense you wouldn’t know about this.”

          “What are you talking about?”

          “Chuck and Becky were banging, on the down low,” Charlie winks, “when he wanted to break things off to focus on this cute librarian dude he met, she didn’t take it too well.”

          “So,” Castiel breathes, uneasy, “what’s this new rule even about?”

          “See for yourself,” Charlie gets up, “it’s on page 54. I got to skedaddle, Jody’s walking over here and she doesn’t look too pleased.” He ignores her exit in lieu of flipping through the pages of the small book. He makes it to the page Charlie indicated and stares blankly at the words.

          His legs feel weak, and his knees start to wobble. His breath leaves his chest, and he has a hard time of regaining it. Castiel makes it back to his seat, falling into it somehow.

          His fingers start to shake, and gravity forces the book out of his hands and onto the floor.

          He blinks, as if free from a spell. He swallows harshly and picks the book up, placing it at the edge of his desk, and at the edge of his mind.

          It doesn’t work.

          For the rest of his shift he feels it pulling at him, sucking at his energy, demanding his attention. The paperwork seems to last forever as the one-sentence rule tramples all over his heart. When it comes time for his shift to be over, he doesn’t even notice it. It’s when Benny nudges him that the moon is gaining ground in the sky that he realizes he’s been working two hours longer than he should have.

          Without a car, he takes his phone and orders an Uber to come pick him up. But while he has the phone out, he shoots a quick text off to Dean.

          He gathers his jacket and some papers and heads out, hoping the cool night air could help clear his mind.

          It doesn’t.

* * *

          Dean’s gnawing at his lip in worry.

          The chicken is starting to get cold, and Castiel still hasn’t texted him back from earlier.

          He looks at the clock near the door and sees how his partner’s shift should have been over almost an hour ago.

          ‘ _Maybe something went wrong?_ ’ Dean starts to think, only to shake that thought from his head soon after, ‘ _no, he would have told me if they were sending him out on the field. He’s busy, that’s all. Wouldn’t be the first time._ ’

          His nerves don’t ease up. He starts to flit around Castiel’s kitchen: wrapping up the chicken and putting it away, cleaning the dishes, and grabbing a bottle of his natural relaxant.

          Dean moves into the living room, popping the cap off the beer and collapsing onto the sofa. He takes a swig off the bottle before turning the television on, flipping through channels with no clear choice in mind.

          He settles for a re-run of an old police drama. Dean snorts at the irony.

          Halfway through an interrogation, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Dean guns for it quicker than he’d like to admit. He sees it’s from Castiel, and his heart slows down.

          It picks back up when he reads the message.

**We need to talk.**

         Dean stares at the screen for a long time. He only stops when the detective on screen slams his fist on the table. It startles him, and he drops his phone in surprise. He stops to take a few, deep breaths before taking action.

         He turns the television off, first. Then he picks up the phone and pockets it. Next, he decides to move from alcohol to _alcohol_.

         While pouring the whiskey, he lets his mind wander to the possibilities. All of them that could have led Castiel to send that text with those exact words.

         Dean and those words have never had a good history.

         They’re what his mother used when she explained to Dean she and his father was divorcing.

         They’re what Lisa Braeden had said when she told him she was pregnant with another man’s child.

         They’re what Donny whispered to him when his girlfriend came home early.

         So Dean feels pretty sure his reaction is justified when Castiel texts him those four little words.

         ‘ _Why would he want to talk,_ ’ Dean thinks, ‘ _the past six months have been good… no big fights, no problems… unless_.’

          Dean gulps.

         ‘ _Unless he wants to go public_.’

          Dean always had a feeling this talk was coming. From the moment Castiel crossed the line that night in the hospital, when Dean’s shoulder ached from a drug bust gone wrong. Had the speech ready for whenever a colleague caught them with their hands lingered too close, or their clothing was too mussed.

          He tried to work up the courage, but each time he felt the words form in his mouth; they were pushed back down along with the bile. Instead, poisonous thoughts seeped in, from years past of his father and grandfather. Samuel was vocal, and showed his disdain with his fists. John was less obvious, but as Dean got older he grew to understand what those dirty looks he made meant.

          He’s spent years working on himself, but never to this amount.

          He didn’t have anything he wanted to work to. He didn’t have anyone he wanted to work _for_.

          Until now.

          And Dean wants to shout from the rooftops how he belongs to no one but Castiel.

          He was almost tempted to at lunch with Sam.

_“You sure know how to take your time.”_

_Dean slides into the vinyl booth, picking up a menu and shooting Sam a sly look from over it._

_“Thought I’d take the scenic route,” Dean shrugs._

_Sam snorts, “Sure.”_

_Before he could say anymore, the waitress descends upon the table with a glint in her eyes. She’s chewing on the pen, only taking it out to ask Dean for his order._

_“I’ll have the chicken club deluxe,” Dean tells her, “and I’ll stick with the water. Thanks.”_

_She leans forward, “Anything else?”_

_“Oh, right,” Dean smirks, “and a slice of pie for dessert. Surprise me, I’m not picky.”_

_The waitress deflates. She takes the menu in a huff before stalking off._

_Dean takes a sip, noticing Sam giving him a strange look. He finishes, and probes his younger brother._

_“What’s on your mind?”_

_“Something’s different.”_

_“What makes you say that?” Dean asks._

_“First, your order,” Sam starts, “too healthy.”_

_“Thought you’d be happy about that.”_

_“Secondly,” Sam continues, “you look flighty, ready to fly out of your chair.”_

_Dean blushes, “Just… not comfortable. Vinyl ain’t what it used to be.”_

_“And third, probably the most shocking of all,” Sam says, “that waitress was flirting with you and you did nothing.”_

_“She was?” Dean blinks, “I didn’t notice.”_

_“Exactly!” Sam crows, “You didn’t notice! You didn’t notice her, the bartender two weeks ago, hell you haven’t even been flirting with any of the witnesses who we interview!”_

_“It’s called being a professional, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes._

_Now you’re being a professional,” Sam scoffs, “no, I know what’s going on Dean.”_

_“You-you do?” Dean stutters, an ice cube caught in his throat._

_“Of course Dean,” Sam shakes his head, “you’re dating again!”_

_“I-“_

_“No need to deny it, dude, I know,” Sam claps his shoulder, “I can’t believe you’re settling down after that whole Lisa fiasco-you swore you’d never date again! This must be someone real special, huh?”_

_Dean feels his cheeks flush. His nerves are electric, standing on edge. He can feel sweat beads trace themselves down his back._

_He could do this now. Tell Sammy the truth. Let him in on the secret._

_He doesn’t._

_“No, Sammy,” Dean scoffs, “I’m not dating anyone.”_

_“Dean,” Sam pleads, “Come on-“_

_“No,” Dean interrupts, “I’m just… trying to live a better life. I’m not getting younger, Sammy, and I’ve already done enough damage. There’s always room for improvement.”_

_Sam looks like he doesn’t believe a word Dean is saying, but he doesn’t push any further._

_The lunch is tense afterwards._

           Dean is no stranger to danger. He’s walked into a gunfight with only a single round left in the chamber of his firearm. He’s done undercover work where the chance of getting caught was ever increasing. He’s had to handle his father in a drunken rage while Sam hid in the closet.

            But when it comes to emotion, Dean still thinks himself the coward.

            ‘ _Tough guy I am,_ ’ Dean snorts, _‘can’t even tell the guy I’m dating I’m completely, hopelessly in l_ -‘

            The key turning in the lock breaks him out of his thoughts.

            Castiel walks in, and Dean goes to meet him.

            “Hey, Cas,” Dean grimaces, “how was your day?” He kisses him, but Castiel pulls himself out of it quickly.

            “Dean,” he grabs him, “did you get my message?”

            The stone grows heavier in his stomach.

            “I-I did,” Dean starts, “what do you… do you want to talk about?”

            “Our relationship.”

            Dean feels cold.

            “No,” he whispers.

            Castiel continues on, as if not hearing him.

            “There’s recent developments, Dean,” he says, “that complicates things. That makes it near impossible to continue our relationship.”

            “Stop it,” Dean shakes his head, “I don’t-I don’t want to do this.”

            “We really need to-“

            “I don’t care what you think we need,” Dean yells, “we ain’t breaking up!”

             Castiel stops and turns. He blinks at Dean.

            “What?”

            “I got your message,” Dean stalks forward, “And I could care less about what’s happened.   We aren’t breaking up even if you think that’s the only way to save the entire human race!”

            “Dean?” Castiel starts, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

            “You don’t?” Dean snorts, “I’m not dumb, Cas. ‘We need to talk’? That’s code for breaking up. And I’m not letting you go even if I got to handcuff you to me for the rest of my life.”

            “Dean, you don’t understand,” Castiel tries, “work-“

            “And sure I want people at work to know,” Dean continues, “I’ve been trying, really. I want to tell everyone just, just give me more time, please-“

            “Dean,” Castiel grabs at him, “we can’t tell anyone about our relationship.”

            Dean blinks at Castiel. “What?”

            Castiel pulls out a small book from his coat pocket, and flips through it until he finds the page he wants. He holds it out for Dean to take. He does, and searches for what Castiel wants him to find.

            It’s at the top of the page.

**_No co-workers shall engage in any inappropriate behavior and/or relationships that may jeopardize working conditions and/or workforce relationships._ **

            “I’m… kinda lost Cas,” Dean shakes his head, “what does it mean?”

            “It means,” Castiel takes the book back, “if we want to keep our jobs, we can’t let anyone know that we’re dating.”

            “What?” Dean shouts, “When did this become a thing?”

            “Apparently after Becky wrecked the crime lab after Chuck dumped her,” Castiel snorts.

            “Huh,” Dean says, “I thought that was Gabriel.”

            “That’s what I said!” Castiel starts, but stops soon after. He returns to himself, and stares Dean down. “Did,” he says, “did you really want to tell everyone about us?”

            Dean blanches. He looks away. “I did,” he says, “I _do_.”

            “You don’t want to break up?” Castiel continues, “Make it easier for yourself?”

            “God, Cas,” Dean groans, “that would only make things harder!”

            Castiel sighs, and falls into the couch. He puts his head in his hands. “Then what are we going to do?”

            Dean joins him, rubbing at his back. “We can carry on with what we’re doing?” he suggests, “it’s been working this long, and we haven’t been that subtle.”

            “But one day it’s not going to work,” Castiel says, “and-and I, too, want to be public. I don’t care for hiding my affections.” He grabs Dean’s hand and looks him in the eyes.

            “Well,” Dean licks his lips, “then that really only leaves one option.”

            “I know,” Castiel gives him a tired smile, “I’m glad you think so, too.”

            “Kinda obvious when all other cards are off the table,” Dean smirks.

            “So you don’t mind?” Castiel asks.

            “Mind?” Dean parrots, “Why would I mind?”

            “I know how much you love this job,” Castiel says, “it’ll be hard to leave, but I’m sure you’ll find something else that’ll-“

            “Woah, woah, woah,” Dean stops him, “what the hell are you talking about?”

            “I thought you agreed,” Castiel says, “that quitting was the only viable option.”

            “Yeah,” Dean nods, “but it wasn’t gonna be me.”

            “Well then who would it be, Dean?”

             Dean gapes at him, “You!”

            “Me?”

            “Yeah,” Dean grumbles, “I mean, you’ve been a detective for a long time, an officer even longer, thought you’d be ready for retirement.”

            “Maybe I’m not ready to retire because I have to deal with someone who likes to throw himself head-first into every life-threatening assignment that comes across his desk,” Castiel fires back.

             They are at a standstill. Green pushes at blue and vice versa, neither giving up the fight.

             “I’m not quitting, Dean.”

             “Well it won’t be me, Cas.”

              The tension is thick, and electric sparks radiate from their bodies. They can feel the other heat up from the righteousness, and soon enough their verbal standstill crashes together in a physical union.

              “We,” Dean speaks between kisses, “aren’t-nggh-finished with-ah-this Cas!”

              “Just shut up and kiss me.”

              They don’t resolve their problems that night, but some of the tension eases before they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

 

            “What are you doing?”

            Dean startles, but relaxes when he realizes it’s just his brother. He’s holding a bag filled with cans of spray paint. He grins up at Sam and pats the old truck he’s been eyeing.

            “Just playing a little prank,” he chuckles, “want to help?”

            “That’s Bobby’s car,” Sam scoffs, “you trying to get fired?”

            Dean turns back to the car. “Something like that…” he whispers to himself.

            “What was that?”

            “I said,” Dean looks over his shoulder, “Are you going to do some ‘art’ or are you just gonna watch?”

            “I’m going inside,” Sam sips at his coffee, “maybe size up your desk. I’ve always liked its leg room, and when you’re gone I’m calling dibs.” He leaves Dean there to his plan.

            Dean shakes his head.

            It’s been at least two days since Castiel and he had their fight. And their make-up sex. But the problem still didn’t go away. One of them had to quit, and the other made sure it wouldn’t be them.

            Castiel tried to bribe Dean into quitting the next day with an early morning rim job, and Dean almost agreed. Thankfully he recollected himself moments after his orgasm.

            Dean fought fire with fire. He tried to get Castiel to quit with a nice massage, followed by a happy ending. The only one who thought that ending was happy was Castiel, seeing as he didn’t agree to quit once Dean finished.

            Now, Dean realizes he has to resort to even _sneakier_ methods.

            Which leads him to where he is now, using up one of his free days to cover Chief Singh’s precious truck head to toe in spray paint.

            The idea came to him the night before, when listening to a conversation between Jody and Donna.

            _“You think Bobby would like a party for his birthday?” Donna asks Jody over coffee and muffins. They were the only other two besides Dean in the break room, so he didn’t have to strain to hear them._

_“Nah,” Jody shakes her head, “he’s not a fan of parties. Just get him a cupcake and call it a day.”_

_“But we can make it fun!” Donna continues, “like a-like a surprise party!”_

_Jody nearly spits out her drink. Instead she chokes on it. She coughs for a bit, but regains her breathing._

_“What?”_

_“You want to throw Bobby a surprise party?” Jody asks._

_“What’s so wrong about that,” Donna huffs._

_Jody chuckles. “Well,” she starts, “if you want to get yourself on his shit list then I’m not going to stop you.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Bobby hates surprises,” Jody explains, “always has and always will. It’s always why he’s such a stickler for the rules. He thinks surprises are ‘unprofessional’. And usually why he enforces such harsh punishments on them. You wanna know why it seems like Gabriel never leaves? Whenever he gets caught pulling a prank on someone, he’s punished.”_

_“Sweet molasses,” Donna whistles, “never knew that about the man.” She blinks, an idea coming to mind. “What if,” she continues, “what it someone plays a prank on him?”_

_“God bless their soul,” Jody smirks, lifting her mug in salute. Donna clinks her glass with Jody’s and they share a laugh._

_Dean smirks from where he’s stirring the sugar into his coffee._

            Dean stands, stretching his back. He surveys his handiwork and chuckles to himself.

            ‘ _I hope you’re ready for some serious vacation time, Cas_ ,’ Dean smirks. He’s about to leave when he remembers to add one last touch. He fishes it out of his back pocket and drops it near the driver’s seat door.

            Hearing noises, Dean dashes off.

* * *

 

            “Novak!”

            The entire precinct goes silent. Castiel looks up from his desk where he’s surrounded by paperwork. Chief Singer storms by, with a look of fury on his face. He doesn’t stop, only muttering the words ‘my office’ when close enough to Castiel.

            Castiel looks over at Charlie, who furrows her brows in confusion. He can see Sam shaking his head next to her, but doesn’t have time to ask anymore silent questions before he proceeds to the lion’s den.

            As soon as he closes the door, Singer pounces.

            “Mind letting me know what this is?” he asks, slamming Castiel’s badge on his desk. Castiel blinks.

            “My-my badge,” Castiel starts, “I’m sorry-I thought I lost it. I thought you wouldn’t know.”

            “Oh I’d know,” Singer continues, “especially since you lost it near to my car.”

            This makes Castiel confused. He hadn’t been anywhere near the Chief’s car today. He knows how much he loves that car, and Castiel doesn’t have a death wish.

            “Why was it there?”

            “Oh, I don’t know, maybe you dropped it there after you _vandalized_ my car!”

            Castiel blinks again.

            “Come again?”

            “Don’t play coy, Detective Novak, it doesn’t suit you,” Singer says, “you dropped your badge after you turned my beautiful truck into a damn art project!”

            “I would never-“

            “Not gonna admit it?” Singer shakes his head, “This level of unprofessionalism is unexpected of you, Novak. I’m disappointed more than anything. Get out. You’ve lost all privileges of shift control and you’ll be on the clock seven days a week for the next two weeks. I hope this teaches you a lesson.”

            Castiel is stunned. He doesn’t remember leaving Singer’s office, but when he comes to Charlie and Sam are at his desk, comforting him.

            “I’ve never seen Singer that mad,” Charlie frowns, “I wonder what happened?”

            “He,” Castiel swallows, “he was angry because someone vandalized his car.”

            Sam freezes up. “What?” he breathes, “Why would he think it was _you_?”

            “Apparently,” Castiel grumbles, “he found my badge near his car. I was framed.”

            Sam shakes his head again, and mutters a faint, “Dammit, Dean.”

            “What was that, Sam?” Charlie asks.

            “It’s just,” Sam starts, “earlier today, I found Dean near Singer’s car playing a prank. I didn’t think he was going to blame you Cas, but, I should have stopped him.”

            Castiel’s face goes slack. His mind is connecting all the pieces together. Dean’s smirk all throughout morning, how he left before breakfast, and how he seemed to be filled to the brim with excitement.

            He knows what Dean was trying to do.

            He frowns, blue eyes burning with a fire Charlie and Sam are scared of.

            He stands.

            “If you’ll excuse me,” Castiel says, “I need a moment to myself.”

            “Do you want me to go to Singer, Cas?” Sam calls, “Explain everything?”

            “No need,” Cas waves off, “I have it handled.”

            He steps out.

            Charlie and Sam exchange looks.

            “Should we be scared?”

            “Probably.” 

* * *

 

            Dean walked into work sluggish, his grip on the cup of coffee in his hand deathly. He hasn’t been having the best of nights, recently.

            Mostly has to do with the fact Castiel has kept him out of his apartment for the past week.

            He’s tried apologizing to him, but Castiel wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness.

            Dean has to admit, if hindsight was 20/20, he wouldn’t have pulled that stupid prank. He went too far. He just wanted to have Castiel lose his job, not have him hate him.

            So instead of sleeping, Dean has been splitting his time between tossing and turning and beating himself up inside.

            Which is why he has no patience for all the looks he’s receiving from his fellow officers.

            By the fifth giggle he’s just about had it

.           He’s about to pound Garth’s head in when Charlie and Jo’s raucous laughter draws his attention. They, along with Sam and Benny, are gathered in front of a flier. He drops his irritation in favor of curiosity, and heads over to investigate.

            He wishes he didn’t.

            “What’s all this about then?” he sidles up to them, asking.

            They turn to look at him, shocked, and he sees it.

            On the paper is Dean himself. His face isn’t shown but everyone knows his tattoo, etched into the skin over his collarbone. Sure, Sam has a matching tattoo, but where Dean’s is on the left side Sam’s is on the right. It’s a full body shot, which is saying something, as Dean seems to be nearly naked. Nearly.

            The pink satin is the only thing protecting his modesty. Not by much, however.

            His face is on fire.

            He grabs at the paper, and rips it to shreds. He has a manic look in his eye.

            “Where did you get these?”

            Before anyone can answer, Singer’s door slams open. Everyone turns. He’s got lightning in his eyes and his fists are tearing at another picture of Dean. He locks eyes with him, and everyone around Dean scatters.

            “Winchester!” he shouts, “My office! Now!”

            Dean’s about to protest, but decides it isn’t worth it. He hangs his head in shame and stalk forward, into Singer’s office. It slams shut.

            Conversation slowly resumes in the office. Castiel’s makes his way in with a spring in his step. He’s biting down on a muffin, smiling smugly.

            “Cas?” Sam calls out, bringing him over to the small group.

            “Hello, Sam,” Castiel greets, “everyone, did I miss anything?”

            “Just Dean on his death march,” Jo snorts.

            “Oh?” Castiel raises a knowing brow, “what happened?”

            Sam can read him easily, but plays along. He grabs at one of the photos on a nearby desk, as there was one placed on every desk. He hands it to Castiel. Castiel does his best to look shocked, but he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his lips.

            “Oh my!” Castiel gasps, “I can’t believe Dean would _do_ such a thing!”

            “Dean didn’t do this,” Sam rolls his eyes, “Come on, Cas, go in there and tell Singer it was you. He could get fired for this!”

            Castiel is about to say something, but the Chief’s door re-opens. Singer stands in the archway, pointing towards the closet. Dean goes where he’s told, grabbing the mop and bucket from its resting place and walking into the bathroom.

            He locks eyes with Castiel on his way and glares.

            Castiel loses his frown. “Apparently,” he mutters, “he didn’t.”

            “You’re lucky he didn’t Cas,” Sam starts, “I hope you two have finished whatever little game you’re playing.”

            “Believe me, Sam,” Castiel says, “this isn’t a game.” He stalks away without another word. He leaves his friends in confusion.

            “Should we be worried?” Jo breaks the silence.

            “I’m not sure…”

* * *

 

            Sam sits at a table in the rec room, his head resting on his palm. He looks dead to the world. Charlie and Jo approach him cautiously. They exchange looks, each trying to nudge the other into risking their life by poking the beast. In the end, Charlie was able to shove Jo closer.

            Jo gulped, but lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

            “What?” he shoots up, and almost off the chair. Jo and Charlie startle back.

            “Sam, Sam!” Jo calms, “it’s just us! Jo!”

            “And Charlie!” the redhead pipes in.

            Sam blinks a bit, but slowly his vision returns to him and he calms down. He settles back into his chair and releases a stressful breath.

            “Sorry,” Sam starts, “I’m-I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep lately.”

            “Is it because of Dean and Cas?” Charlie slumps into the seat next to his right, Jo takes his left.

            Sam nods, “And not even the way we wanted.”

            “Do you know why they’re acting like this?” Jo asks.

            Sam snorts. “No,” he says, “I wish I did. For awhile Dean was spending almost every other night out, stopping in to visit what should be _his_ apartment, too. Now, I haven’t seen him sleeping and he’s keeping _me_ awake, muttering about Cas and his _perfect_ plans.”

            “You mean like how he convinced Cas’s old police dog, Cat, to take a dump on Singer’s office chair?” Charlie rolled her eyes.

            “Or, when he spiked Singer’s coffee with laxatives with Novak’s name on them?” Jo added in.

            “If you ask me,” Charlie chuckles, “those were all pretty _shitty_.”

            Sam and Jo shoot her a glare. She blushes, rubbing at the back of her head.

            “Sorry,” she shrugs, “Couldn’t resist.”

            “I don’t know what he’s planning,” Sam continues, “but he wouldn’t stop talking about it in the vaguest of ways and-oh, crap, here he comes.”

            Dean walks by whistling; there’s a swing to his step. He cracks open an eye and catches the group by surprise. He turns on his heel and makes his way over to them. There’s a coffee in his hand.

            “Hey dudes,” Dean greets them, “what’s shakin’?”

            “Dean,” Charlie starts, “you’re a little… _chipper_ this morning?”

            “Why shouldn’t I be?”

            “Well,” Jo rolls her eyes, “seeing as you have to wash and detail all the police cars, as well as organize all the files-let’s just say there’s not much to be smiling about.”

            Dean huffs, “Wouldn’t have to be doing all that if _someone_ would just give up already.”

            Dean doesn’t say it, but he’s talking about Castiel’s retaliation. After Dean’s dog prank, Castiel somehow wired all the police cars’ sirens to flare to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’, placing all the blame on Dean. He was also able to fire back after the laxatives, finding and changing Chief Singer’s personal files, leaving it out on Dean’s desk for the Chief to find.

            “So what have you got planned today?” Sam asks, rubbing at the ache forming in his temples.

            Dean smiles. “Who says I’m doing anything _today_?”

            “Besides the fact that you kept me up all night talking about it,” Sam says, “you aren’t one to give up that easily.”

            “Well, if you must know,” Dean rolls his eyes, leaning in, “I’m going to give Cas… some coffee.”

            The three blink, waiting for more. When Dean stays silent, a vein bursts in Sam’s forehead.

            “That’s it!” he shouts, “You’ve been driving me crazy over a damned cup of coffee!”

            “It’s not _just_ coffee, Samantha,” Dean scoffs, “it also happens to be the thing that’ll get me what I want. You see, I added a special, _secret_ ingredient to this concoction.”

            “It’s not another laxative is it?” Charlie asks, “Because I gotta say, that’s lazy even for you.”

            “Please,” Dean says, “I’m not an amateur. Let’s just say that I owe Ash over in the Narcotics department a huge favor if this works out. I’ll catch y’all later.” He starts whistling again, leaving the others.

            “He can’t be serious,” Sam’s eyes widen, “he does know how Singer feels about drug use, right?”

            “He has to,” Jo nods, “Gabriel’s always complaining about the newest pamphlet Singer shoved into his locker.”

            “So what’s he trying to do!” Charlie says, “Get Cas fired?”

            “I don’t know,” Sam stands, “but we need to tell Cas-“

            “Tell me what?”

            Cas walks in, a slice of pie in his hands. He heads over to the group with a sly smirk on his face.

            “Cas!” Charlie squeaks, “It’s Dean-“

            “Dean?” Castiel blinks, “he was here? Where did he go?”

            “I think to his desk,” Sam answers, shaking his head, “but, listen, he’s-“

            “It doesn’t matter,” Castiel interrupts, “I’ve gotta give him this while it’s hot.”

            He holds the pie up. Everyone blinks.

            “A… pie?”

            Castiel chuckles, “Oh, this isn’t just an _ordinary_ pie.”

            “Cas,” Sam drawls, “what are you talking about.”

            “You’ll see,” Cas continues laughing, walking away, “I’m gonna go find Dean. If Ash asks, I’ve already placed his fee in his locker.”

            Castiel leaves the break room.

            Charlie and Jo exchange glances before looking at Sam.

            “Should we,” Charlie gulps, “Should we do something?”

            Sam crosses his arms. He takes a deep breath.

            “No.”

* * *

 

            Castiel’s not staring at Dean.

            Except he totally is; but if you ask him right now, he’ll deny it.

            Or giggle, whatever reaches his mouth first.

            They’ve been doing this for an hour: this not staring. Dean’s in on it, too. Whenever Castiel looks over at his boyfriend he catches greenish-red eyes looking away.

            Castiel smirks, taking the last swig of his coffee. He pulls it away and looks in. He shakes it.

            “Finished?” Dean asks, smiling.

            “I am,” Castiel knocks the cup onto its side, “I’d ask you the same thing but you inhaled the pie the second I gave it to you.”

            “It’s pie,” Dean shrugs, “you know me well enough to know what I do with pie.”

            “Of course I do,” Castiel chuckles, “s’why I gave it to you.”

            “S’why I gave you coffee,” Dean giggles alongside Castiel, “as much as I love pie, you feel the same about coffee.”

            “Among other things…” Castiel shakes his head.

            “Huh?” Dean asks, “s’what’s that supposed to mean?”

            “You’re very cute like this,” Castiel shakes his head.

            Dean puffs his cheeks out, “Like what.”

            “High,” Castiel says outright, “I’m gonna miss you when you’re fired.”

            Dean’s eyes widen. “Dude,” Dean laughs, “I can’t believe you think _I’m_ high. Goes to show how stoned _you_ are!”

            “What?” Castiel squints, “No, no, I’m sure it’s you that’s high. I measured the amount of marijuana I had to use in the recipe and poured it in, I remember.”

            Dean starts laughing. “Well,” he gasps, “well I didn’t get all scientific. I just dumped the baggie into your coffee cup!”

            Castiel doesn’t know why, but he starts laughing, too. They’re like that for a few minutes, with Dean gasping for air and Castiel banging his fist on the table near the end. But just as quickly as they started, their mirth dies down. They each look at each other with wide eyes.

            “We’re so screwed,” Dean says, but soon starts to giggle again, “I-I can’t believe-we’re _both_ going to get what we want!”

            “Not if I can help it,” Castiel stands, wobbling, “follow me.” He grabs at Dean’s hand, getting his wrist, and drags him up. They manage to make their way out from the crowded main office and into a nearby hallway. Castiel looks around, and opens a nearby door. He throws Dean in there before shoving himself in there as well.

            “We’ll stay in here until it all wears off,” Castiel says, “Hopefully no one finds us until then-“

            He’s cut off. Dean pressing his body against his slows his train of thought.

            “This remind you,” Dean whispers, “Of the first time we did it in the station?”

            Castiel might be under the influence, but nothing can take that memory away from him. It’s seared itself into his brain from all the heat they gave off during their meeting. He licks his lips, thinking back.

            It was a few days after Dean had returned to work: shoulder bandaged but still able to do some things. He was stuck on desk duty and had ventured to the supply closet for more paper. Castiel surprised him in there.

            The fact that they could be caught at any second made the entire act feel incredibly sexier. Their usual screams, tapered down to whispers and pleas, swallowed into their mouths. Dean released his pleasure in other ways. When he came, he bit down so hard on Castiel’s neck that he could still feel it-

            “Get out of your damn head, Cas,” Dean moans around Castiel’s collarbone, “I wanna have some fun!”

            Castiel doesn’t need anymore prompting.

            Back out in the thick of it, the trio of Sam, Charlie, and Jo have convened again. This time near Dean and Castiel’s desks.

            “Where could they have gone?” Jo asks

            “Not far,” Sam reasons, “they looked so out of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found them out in the parking lot!”

            “Hopefully they’re not,” Charlie sighs, “as funny as we would find it I don’t want to be around Dean when he re-enacts ‘Dude, Where’s my Car’.”

            “Well, anyway,” Sam sighs, “we better find them before Singer-“

            “Before I what?”

             They all jump. Chief Singer stands behind them, hands at his waist.

            “Before… before…” Charlie tries, before hanging her head in shame, “I got nothing.”

             Singer looks behind them and glares.

            “Where in the hell are the Trouble Mint Twins?”

             Sam, Charlie, and Jo all rush to speak, talking over each other and contradicting each other completely. Singer looks un-amused with all of them, fingers massaging the space between his brow.

            “Enough!” Singer shouts, startling them silent, “I want to know where Detectives Winchester and Novak are, and I want to know now! No doubletalk, no lies, just give me a location.”

            He gets his answer from behind.

            “Dean and Cas?” Garth asks, “I thought I saw them head towards the supply closet?”

            From over Singer’s head, the three on the stand shoot Officer Fitzgerald their deadliest glares. They only stop when Singer starts to move.

            They follow him as he stalks towards the supply closet. They try to stop him, but it is of no use. He’s got a mission in mind, and he won’t stop until after he swings the door to the supply closet.

            In fact, they all stop, as the supply closet door swings open in front of them.

            In the small, dark room, Dean straddles Castiel. He looks up at the group with glossy, green eyes and red cheeks. He’s panting, and his shirt has been unbuttoned. Castiel hasn’t fared better. His head fell when Singer opened the door, and his head is smarting. He’s chuckling at the pain, blue eyes scrunched. His shirt was almost completely off.

            Charlie is the first to regain the ability to talk.

            “I WON!” she screams, “Dean and Cas, in the closet, in June! Oh, the irony! Pay up bitches!” She forgets about the precarious situation they are in, instead consumed by the fact she won the company pool. She’s about to celebrate more, but a quick shake of her head from Jo has her piping back down.

            Singer’s face is unreadable. He stares down at the two detectives. He takes a breath.

            “Novak. Winchester,” he rumbles, “I want you in my office in five minutes, cleaned up.” He leaves without another word.

            Sam pipes up, “Well that went better than-“

_SLAM! CRASH! BANG!_

            “…expected…”

* * *

            “Now,” Singer starts, “would one of you like to explain how we’ve all ended up _here_?” He’s seated at his desk, hands folded together. There’s a fallen picture frame on the ground and his mug lies shattered on the floor.

            Dean and Castiel gulp, sharing a look.

            “Well.” Singer sighs, “if I’m not going to get an answer, I’ll have to just tell _you_ how _I_ think this all happened.”

            “From what I’ve been gathering,” he continues, “you two have had this building up for awhile. We all saw it. But it looks like neither of you could take it anymore, so you decided to get the other kicked out of the force. I will say, now, that I apologize for my punishments: mainly because they were doled out to the _wrong_ person. But it all came to a head when you decided to _drug_ each other with _stolen_ goods from the narcotics department. And like any idiotic, horny teenagers, you decided the best time to do it was when you were under the influence! _Have I hit the nail on the head or am I missing anything else?!?_ ”

            Dean gulps, and Castiel looks away. Bobby is a very reserved man, but when he yells, he is the scariest man they know.

            “Answer me!” he barks.

            “It’s not what it looked like,” Dean blurts, “I mean, you’re right about the pranks, and you’re right about the-the drugging thing, but not the reasons.”

            “Then pray tell me what,” Bobby asks, reigning his temper in, “in the hell of it all was good enough to nearly drive _me_ up the wall!”

            “We, uh,” Dean licks his lips, not looking at Singer, “what does it matter, you wouldn’t believe it.”

            “I don’t know what to believe until you tell me.”

            “We were trying to get each other fired,” Castiel speaks up, biting his lip in embarrassment.

            “I already said that,” Bobby shook his head, “how damn long does it take for this stuff to get out of your system?”

            “To be fair,” Dean defends him, “this is his first time ever getting high.”

            Singer rolls his eyes, “How memorable.”

            “He’s right though,” Dean continues, “we were trying to get the other fired, but not because we couldn’t take the tension. In fact, we haven’t had tension in… in _months_.”

            Bobby blinks at them. He leans in, “Just what are you getting at?”

            Dean opens his mouth to answer, but Castiel beats him to the punch.

            “We’ve been dating,” he says, “for months.”

            “Months!”

            “Yeah,” Dean glares at Castiel, “ever since I took that hit from Alistair’s pistol.”

            “That was in January, Dean,” Bobby says, “you know what that means?”

            “I know!” Dean hangs his head in shame, “we’ve been breaking the rule even before there was a rule!”

            “No!” Singer waves them off, “it means I’ve won the bet!”

            The couple blinks at their Chief.

            “I’m sorry,” Castiel starts, “is it the drugs or did he just say…”

            “No, no,” Dean pats his arm, “he said that.” He turns to his boss, “You were in on it, too?”

            “Who do you think started the whole thing,” Singer leans back, easing on back from the edge, “I pegged you two from the start. S’why I partnered you up to begin with.”

            Dean gapes at him, “Dude!”

            “What?” Castiel blinks, mind still foggy.

            Singer shrugs, “Never did learn how to play fair.”

            “Wait, wait, wait,” Dean shakes his head, “but-but what about the new rule?”

            “Well, Winchester,” Singer rolls his eyes, “if you had just asked, you would have found out the board _rejected_ my new rule about two weeks ago, especially when it was discovered Ms. Rosen’s reactions can't  _just_  be blamed on Shurley’s rejection, but also on the fact she's been dealing with an undiagnosed mental illness. She’s doing better, by the way, now that she’s getting the help she needs.”

             Dean and Castiel’s cheeks are stained red.

            “Oh…”

            “Yeah,” Singer huffs, “oh.”

            “So,” Castiel smiles, “you aren’t mad anymore?”

            “Oh,” Singer chuckles, “I’m still pissed as all hell. Feeling better now that I’m getting my money, but still angry with all you put me through. And you both need to be punished for disturbing work and policing while under the influence.”

            “Well,” Dean starts, “if you have to fire anyone, you’ll have to fire me.”

             Castiel turns to him, “Dean…”

            “No, Cas,” Dean turns to him, “it should have been me to begin with. You’re right: I take too many risks. I was the one who instigated this whole thing from the start. If it wasn’t for my actions we wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t still be kind of baked.”

            “But, Dean, you can’t,” Castiel grabs his hand, clutching it, “you might have started it but it was I who took things too far. If anyone is going to be fired, it should be me.”

            “Cas, no-“

            “Dean, you were right, I’ve had a long career. I won’t mind if it’s cut short. I can’t let you give it all up seeing how much you love this job.”

            “Idiot,” Dean chuckles, “I love _you_ -“

            Dean stops, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Castiel stares at him with wide eyes, cheeks ablaze.

            “You… you do?”

            Dean swallows, but nods slowly.

            “Yeah, Cas, I do,” Dean places his hand on Castiel's cheek, “S’why I didn’t want to give you up. Why I _can’t_ give you up. I’m so in love with you I can’t think straight.”

            Dean tries to keep calm, but when Castiel loses it, so does he. They laugh, and Castiel leans into Dean’s touch.

            “Dean,” Castiel says, “I love you, too.”

            They’re lost in each other’s eyes, and drifting ever so closer. Their lips are about to touch, when a cough breaks them out of their spell.

            “If you’re done,” Singer raises a brow, “you’ll be happy to know that I won’t be firing anyone.”

            “You’re not?” Dean asks.

            “Yep,” Bobby nods, “seeing as how you’ve been punished for all the previous pranks, I don’t see the need to go to the extreme. Especially since I’m sure this _won’t_ be happening again?” He continues after their nod. “And since you were both stationed at your desk and not out on the field,” he continues, “no one really got harmed from your altered state. Just, next time, do it at home, alright?”

            “Wait, come again?” Dean stops him, “did you just tell us it’s okay for us to smoke this stuff _at home_?”

            Singer shrugs. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t impact your work. Besides, I’d be a hypocrite if I told you that _you_ couldn’t.”

            “You mean you…”

            Singer nods.

            “How?”

            “Three months ago,” Singer recounts, “I started seeing the guy who owns the Medicinal place over on 5th and Grand. You know the guy, Fergus Crowley? Well, anyway, he wrote me a prescription for my constant migraine and I’ve been doing better ever since.”

            “I didn’t know you had a constant migraine,” Castiel tilts his head.

            “Lots of them,” Singer nods, “in fact, I’m staring at two of them right now. Seriously, how do you think I haven’t quit yet? Before I just drank but this is _way_ better. Except I’ve already had to refill my prescription _twice_ since you two started your shenanigans. I’m actually going back there today if you guys want me to ask him to write you a prescription…?”

            Dean and Castiel look at each other and shrug.

            “Sure,” Dean says, “why not?”

            “Good,” Singer nods, turning away, “pick it up tomorrow at the place. You’ll have loads of time to enjoy it seeing as you’re being suspended for two weeks.”

            “Excuse me?”

            Singer looks at them over his shoulder. “What?” he asks, “I told you there was going to be punishment. Be lucky you’re my best detectives otherwise you’d be gone for a _month_ , maybe longer and more permanent.”

            They lean back in their chairs, agreeing with him.

            “Now, get out of here,” Singer waves them off, “I need to deal with a headache coming on…”

            Dean and Castiel don’t need to be told twice. They scramble out of their seats and let the door slam behind them. They release an easy breath now that they feel safe.

            “You know,” Castiel starts, “two weeks off might be a good thing.”

            Dean looks at him, “Yeah?”

            Castiel nods, “My place has been lacking your presence. I do say I miss the little things. Like your smell, the way you make food, even the way you leave a trail of your clothes from the door to the bedroom.”

             Dean smiles at him and grasps at his hand, intertwining their fingers.

            “I’ve missed you, too, Cas,” Dean smiles, “let’s never fight this bad again.”

            “Agreed.”

            They head towards their desks, collecting their stuff, before joining hands once more and leaving. On their way out, they see a huge group huddled around Charlie’s desk.

            It’s Jody, Donna, Sam, Jo, Benny, Kevin, Ash, Gabriel, Garth, Chuck, Pamela, and what looks like half of the police force. They all have money in their hands and one by one they hand it over to Charlie.

            As they’re walking by, Dean mentions over his shoulder:

            “You know we’ve been together since January.”

            All eyes turn to them.

            Charlie’s eyes widen, “What?”

            The couple turns back.

            “Yes,” Castiel smiles, looking at Dean, “our first kiss was in a hospital, wasn’t it? Not, in fact, a closet.”

            Charlie’s face falls. She loses grip on the wad of bills in her hands and it falls onto her desk along with the other bills that are no longer hers.

            “I… I can’t believe I didn’t win,” Charlie shakes her head.

            “Don’t worry, Charlie,” Castiel says, pulling at Dean, “you were still right about one thing.” He slaps Dean’s ass as explanation.

            The crowd is a mixture of nervous laughter and gaping faces. Sam is doing his best to not think about it, while Jo comforts him. Charlie stands up, shouting at their retreating figures.

            “You can’t bet on a fact, Cas!”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all enjoy?  
> Honestly, this turned out longer than I was expecting... but I still love it.  
> I had so much fun writing this one, and I hope you had just as much reading it!


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